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At just nineteen, Anna Duboc is already moving through the industry with the kind of intention most artists don’t reach until much later in their careers. She’s proven she can match the greats vocally, reinterpret classics with emotional clarity, and write her own truth straight from the source, no filters, no theatrics, just instinct and skill. In 2025, she pushed herself even further, releasing a series of deeply personal tracks and acoustic re-imaginings that showed the full range of who she’s becoming as an artist. From breathing new life into Kate Bush’s “Wuthering Heights” to turning Billy Joel’s “Vienna” into a nostalgic timestamp of her own transition into adulthood, Anna made this year a study in growth. But her biggest standout is “ Suffocating ,” a release chosen for BUZZMUSIC’s Best Independent Artists of 2025. It’s raw, emotionally honest, and rooted in the kind of self-realization that comes with finally understanding what you deserve, both in love and in life. Beyond the music, Anna’s year was full of milestones: graduating high school Summa Cum Laude, closing out her conservatory journey with show-stopping performances in Chicago and Hadestown , and beginning her university studies in music and songwriting. Every move she makes reflects the same thing, dedication, professionalism, and a genuine desire to tell stories that make people feel seen. In this 1:1 conversation, Anna breaks down her year with us: the breakthroughs, the moments of doubt, the growth, the art, and the heart behind it all. This year, you revisited two iconic classics, “Wuthering Heights” and “Vienna,” but through your own lens and your own voice. What drew you to reinterpret songs that carry so much history, and how did stepping into those stories help you understand your own artistry better? Those songs have always felt like whole worlds on their own, and I wanted to see what happened when I stepped inside them. Recording them helped me understand the parts of my voice I hadn’t explored yet—how dramatic, soft, or emotional I could let myself be without hiding behind anything. Filming the Wuthering Heights MV was where I felt most connected to my artistry, the color scheme and elegance of the whole thing combined with Kate’s poetic words/intricate chords is a direction I would love to see my art go.  Your upcoming feature in our Best Independent Artists of 2025 spotlights “Suffocating.” When you look back at the headspace you were in while writing it, what part of your emotional truth were you finally ready to face, and what do you hope listeners feel when they hear it? Writing “Suffocating” was me finally admitting how trapped I felt in a relationship where I kept shrinking to make someone else comfortable. I hope listeners feel understood—like if they’re walking on eggshells for love, they’re not alone and they deserve better. You’ve been performing since you were four, you come from a wildly creative household, and you’ve already worked with some serious legends. How has growing up surrounded by that level of art and talent shaped the way you write, rehearse, and carry yourself as a young artist stepping into adulthood? Being raised around so much art taught me to take my work seriously, but not to take the beginning of the creative process too seriously or else it’s easy to get in your own way as many of my mentors have taught me. It made the stage feel like home from a young age and it pushed me to be honest in my writing, because everyone around me was always creating from such a real place. This year wasn’t just about releases; you graduated high school Summa Cum Laude, wrapped up your conservatory training, and started university. How have those transitions influenced your songwriting or the way you see yourself outside of music? Now that I’ve finished high school and have been doing a lot more on my own I’ve been able to get in touch with my voice and my true sound without anyone’s direct influence, like I was wearing floaties in a pool and now I’m starting to float on my own and finding the right lane to swim in. This has been especially evident in my songwriting process as I start to see patterns pop up in my songs, finding the through line of what makes “Anna Duboc” an artist and not just a writer.   You’ve had some heavy viral moments, from your Velma Kelly performance to your a cappella work winning awards. When videos like that take off, does it change how you approach performing or creating content, or do you try to keep the noise out and stay locked into what feels genuine? When something blows up, it’s flattering, but I try not to let it change how I perform. The only things that last are the things that are genuine so I try to stay locked on that. It’s cool when things blow up, of course, but it can’t be the reason I create. You’ve talked about how meaningful it is when your music makes someone feel seen,  like the girl who cried during your performance of “Sinking Feeling.” How do you balance being vulnerable in your writing with protecting your own emotional well-being as you go deeper into your career? In a way being vulnerable in my writing is a way of protecting my own emotional wellbeing–it’s a way of letting out the stuff that boils up inside and not letting it burst. When I write it usually never starts out as a fully formed song, but a rant or a poem of something I am passionate about or a word vomit of the emotions I have. The song forms after. Looking ahead to 2026, you’re stepping into a new chapter as both an artist and a student of your craft. What do you feel is the biggest shift happening inside you creatively right now, and what are you most excited to uncover about your voice this coming year? I’m just super excited to see what my artistry becomes as I continue to develop my sound. I really feel a shift in the way I want people to see me and I can’t wait to put more of my personality and authenticity into my future music and content.

There are artists who write songs, and then there are artists who live them, and Isabella Chiarini fits squarely in the second category. The Hamilton-born pop singer-songwriter has spent the past decade shaping her craft with intention, discipline, and a clear understanding of who she wants to be. Her voice carries both vulnerability and confidence; her stories come from real life; and her artistic choices feel rooted in a kind of emotional honesty that resonates with young listeners navigating their own chaos, growth, and self-discovery. Isabella’s journey started early. After losing her mother at only three years old, she grew up watching her father, her biggest influence, show her what strength, resilience, and unconditional support really look like. That foundation shaped everything: her work ethic, her belief in herself, and her commitment to showing up authentically in her music. By eight, she was already training with acclaimed vocal coach Teresa Nocita. By her teens, she was in Nashville taking classes in songwriting, stage presence, and artist development under PCG Universal. And now, years later, she’s carving out a lane of her own back home in Canada, writing alongside Nocita and Canadian Idol winner Brian Melo to refine a sound that lives comfortably under the pop umbrella while never sounding generic. 2025 became one of her most pivotal years yet. With releases like “ Gotta Be, ” “ Kiss ,” and “ Let It All Go ,” Isabella showcased a level of depth and versatility that made her stand out in a crowded pop landscape. But it was “Gotta Be”  a raw, emotionally charged song drawn from a painful personal situation that defined her year and earned its place in BUZZMUSIC’s Best Independent Artists of 2025. What could have remained a private hurt instead became a moment of empowerment: a song that resonated, went viral on release announcement, and even landed her a TV performance. It’s the perfect example of how Isabella transforms life’s hardest moments into something uplifting, relatable, and healing, both for herself and for her listeners. Outside of the studio, Isabella has been equally focused on growth. She’s entering her fourth year at Berklee Online studying Music Business, driven by her desire to understand not just how to create music, but how the entire industry works. She’s also made her health a priority,  mentally, physically, and creatively, building routines that keep her grounded while she balances school, writing, recording, and personal evolution. Looking ahead, Isabella has big plans for 2026: stepping into industry roles, gaining hands-on experience behind the scenes, continuing to release new music, and refining the artist she’s becoming. Her path is shaped by authenticity, determination, and a belief in never giving up, a message she hopes inspires anyone listening, especially young adults figuring out who they are. This spotlight goes deeper into her year, the milestones, the challenges, the growth, and the personal breakthrough that became “Gotta Be,” her defining release of 2025. Your song “Gotta Be” comes from a deeply personal place, turning a painful family experience into something empowering. Looking back now, what did writing that song teach you about yourself, and how did transforming hurt into art change the way you see that situation? It taught me that even though something may seem hard or like it’s never-ending, it will always turn out all right in the end! It made me appreciate it because I was able to turn my hurt into something I’m proud to share about in hopes that it will help someone else come out of a difficult situation. This year, you explored multiple pop subgenres with “Gotta Be,” “Kiss,” and “Let It All Go.” What part of your identity as a pop artist feels the strongest right now, and how do these releases each reveal a different side of your sound? I feel like every time I release, I show a different side of myself because I’m constantly trying to reinvent! I want to show people that I’m versatile, and try to create music that my listeners can listen to at any time or occasion. I love coming up with new ideas and concepts that can turn into awesome art!  You’ve been writing since you were a kid, and you’ve trained with industry pros from Teresa Nocita to Brian Melo. How have those early years of discipline, vocal training, and artist development shaped the way you create music today? Both Teresa and Brian taught me to never give up. Sometimes, when I’m hitting a wall when it comes to ideas or writing, I always have them in the back of my mind, telling me I can do anything I put my mind to. It instilled great discipline and drive in me, which is important to have not only in the music industry but in life. Your announcement video for “Gotta Be” hit nearly 10k views in two days, and you performed it on TV, huge milestones. Did those moments shift anything internally for you as an artist navigating confidence, visibility, and momentum? Yes! Performing on TV was a huge moment for me because I had been trying to get on that particular channel for years, and when it finally happened for me for “Gotta Be,” the timing felt so right!! It gave me a huge confidence boost.

When you listen to Paxson Chase , it feels less like you’re pressing play on a song and more like you’re stepping into someone’s journal, raw, unfiltered, and fully human. The Trenton-born indie artist has become a rising voice in the alternative bedroom-pop and lo-fi hip-hop world, blending emotional honesty with a sound that’s constantly shapeshifting. Influenced by artists like Kid Cudi and XXXTentacion, Paxson has built a catalog that feels deeply personal yet universally relatable, touching on mental health, heartbreak, self-discovery, and the beautifully chaotic process of growing up. 2025 was a massive marathon year for him. From EPs to singles, a mixtape, and finally Pink 3, Paxson didn’t just release music; he closed a chapter. Finishing the Pink series marked the end of an era he’d been building toward for years, a body of work that holds pieces of who he was, what he’s survived, and how he’s choosing to move forward. Pink 3, chosen for BUZZMUSIC’s Best Independent Artists of 2025, is a reflection of everything he’s learned, a project made not just to express pain or confusion, but to pass on clarity, reminders, and lessons listeners can carry into their own lives. This year wasn’t just about output; it was about introspection. Paxson spent 2025 figuring out what kind of person he wants to be, who he is outside of the music, the noise, the expectations, and the pressure. That inner growth echoes loudly through Pink 3, with its themes of acceptance, reflection, and the slow, painful, beautiful journey of becoming. It’s the type of project that hits hardest because it doesn’t pretend everything is perfect; it’s honest about the highs, the lows, and the in-between spaces. Looking ahead, Paxson isn’t slowing down. His next chapter includes a collaborative EP with close friend Loverboikai, who appeared on Pink 3 and other past projects. It’s a partnership built on chemistry, mutual respect, and a shared vision, the kind of collaboration that feels less like a feature and more like two worlds blending into something new. And while his catalog keeps expanding, Paxson’s message stays grounded: start where you are, take the first step, and stay yourself unapologetically. For an artist who’s built his name on honesty and heart, it’s exactly the kind of energy he’s carrying into 2026. This spotlight dives deeper into his year, his evolution, and the emotional weight behind Pink 3. Pink 3 closes out a whole era for you, the end of your Pink series. What did finishing this chapter reveal about who you are now versus who you were when you first started it? I’m definitely content with it all. It feels good to close this chapter. Pink was something I never thought would last this long, so it’s wild seeing how far it’s come. When I listen to Pink 1, 2, and 3, they’re all so different, but each one builds on the last. It shows how much I’ve grown, not just as an artist, but as a person. You’ve always written openly about mental health, heartbreak, confusion, and self-growth. Which song on Pink 3 feels like the clearest snapshot of where your head and heart were this year? Probably “Runaway” or “Slow Down.” Those songs really capture where I was and, honestly, still kinda am. Time’s moving fast, everything catches up to you, and I’ve been trying to outrun it while still figuring everything out. Your sound blends alt-rock, bedroom pop, lo-fi, and hip-hop in a way that feels really personal. Where does that experimental instinct come from, and how do you know when a track is finally “you”? I don’t think I ever fully know. I sit on songs for so long because I don’t think they’re good enough, then months later I’ll play them again and be like, “Wait… this isn’t bad at all. I need to drop this.” A song feels like “me” when it surprises me in that way, when it hits different after time passes. This year forced you into a lot of reflection. How did that internal work translate into your writing and production process? The EP Everything’s Everywhere but Where It Needs to Be was the best example of how my year started. I lost loved ones, relationships, and, honestly, parts of myself. I’m still learning and discovering new things about who I am and who I’m becoming. All of that uncertainty and rebuilding naturally showed up in the music. You dropped a ton of music in 2025: EPs, singles, a mixtape, and an album. What did releasing at that pace teach you about discipline or trusting your creative instincts? It taught me that not everything will meet my own standards, but that doesn’t mean the music is bad. Sometimes, releasing something for the people goes further than overthinking it. I learned to trust myself more and let the art breathe. You’re planning a collab EP with Loverboikai in 2026. What’s the dynamic like between the two of you, and what energy can fans expect from that project? People can expect a mix of hip-hop, bedroom pop, and alt-rock, just good music and good energy. We’ve been planning this for years, and I mean years, so we’re both excited to finally show what we can do together. You’ve talked before about the importance of ignoring expectations and making art on your own terms. What moment taught you that lesson? My first major release, Walk With Me, had my biggest song to date, but the project after that, Limbo, was where I really started developing my craft. It wasn’t well-received, and the lack of support humbled me. It made me realize that people will always have different opinions. There’s no point trying to please everyone. I learned to focus on pleasing myself with the art I create.

Ivy-Lee ’s music exists in the space where vulnerability meets intention. As an emerging voice in the indie pop landscape, she has built a sound defined by emotional honesty, layered harmonies, and atmospheric production that feels both intimate and expansive. Drawing from early pop influences and years of live performance, Ivy-Lee has steadily shaped an artistic identity rooted in self-reflection and authenticity rather than trend-chasing. With her debut EP, ' Heart On The Line ,' Ivy-Lee enters a pivotal moment in her journey. The project captures years of growth, creative risk, and personal recalibration, balancing the realities of independent artistry with deeply personal storytelling. In this conversation below, Ivy-Lee opens up about vulnerability, creative evolution, and what it means to keep showing up with her heart fully exposed. This track feels like your emotional thesis statement. What moment in your life sparked the idea for “Heart On The Line” Ooh, a range of life experiences really - I couldn't attribute it to one specific moment, but could say that the track was triggered by a feeling of burden mixed with being misunderstood, even when my intentions have been genuine. Growing up, I have been someone who enjoys bringing people from diverse groups together, and fostering connectivity and inclusivity - most of the time, this has cultivated new friendships. I loved to host gatherings or mesh different friend groups together. On occasion, I have inadvertently done the opposite, or missed a detail which caused a flow of affect, and have felt the repercussions of this. However, through growth and a strong sense of identity and grounding in myself and my values, I have come to realise you are not everyone's cup of tea and you cannot please everyone - all you can do is remain authentically you (as long as you are fair and kind) - which is what this song is about. Heart On The Line is a lovely stepping stone from my debut single 'If I Fall', which explored identity crisis, uncertainty, the hurt of being taken advantage of, and feeling lost whilst navigating identity in new or unknown environments. I think the song demonstrates maturity and clarity in oneself. As someone who feels deeply, how do you balance vulnerability with protecting your peace while making music As a musician, I am considered in both my writing style and musical approach. When you listen to my music, it is like listening to a vulnerable, yet carefully curated (but not inauthentic) diary or series of journal entries that come together in a story. I haven't been someone to journal in a traditional sense, and tend to be introspective, and seek guidance or comfort in my close networks - therefore, once it comes into the musical or lyrical space, it's like I've breathed meaning and impact back into a retrospective story or experience rather than using it as an intense or reactive outlet. In songwriting, I am thoughtful and wary in ways that lyricism can be interpreted by each unique listener. This can be both in ways that are surprising and comforting, or in ways that are misconstrued - so I love to balance poetic metaphors and visuals to create a tangible experience for my listeners, whilst being careful and selective in the language I use to tell a story. Also note that I released my EP 2-3 years after the inception of the songs, such as Heart On The Line - so whilst it reflects an inherent and still present experience, I have been able to process it throughout the journey, from writing, to production, to release. I think this retrospective approach and thoughtful lyricism help protect my peace. You built this EP over two and a half years. How did your sound and self evolve during that period I would say my sound became more grounded and clarified. I continued to explore and experiment, and stayed true to what I truly wanted the outcome of the EP to sound like, rather than over-imitating artists or styles I was inspired by before I properly entered the music production space. I leaned into the power of the lyricism and the feeling I had when writing each individual song, and wanted to have each song act as an episode or journal entry of a broader series or diary. I was inspired by cinematic sounds and the way they make people feel, and the way they evoke an emotional response from their listeners/viewers. The sound across my EP is consistent, leans into the pop-sphere, and is dynamically driven vocally and instrumentally. I think the biggest evolution is really in the songwriting style and my ability to be completely honest. What did working with Bunkr Creative unlock for you creatively on this final track? I have worked with Bunkr Creative for all my releases so far, and I feel working with him has been a journey - he was there from the beginning, when I had zero production experience, through to this most recent project. Knowing me, and my personal and musical journey, meant that Bunkr Creative was intuitive and receptive to my vision, and collaborated with me to both deliver upon the storytelling and emotive elements, as well as finesse my sound over the span of a few years. He's truly talented, and I would work with him all over again. What do you hope listeners who struggle with sensitivity or self-doubt take away from this song? I hope my listeners embrace sensitivity and softness, deepen their understanding of their emotions, and harness this to empower people around them. With anything, I like to preach self-awareness - It's great to take back your story, or rewrite perceived weaknesses as strengths, but with anything, I do believe in balance and give/take. I hope that society can continue to soften to embrace emotional depth and sensitivity, and create an understanding that these feelings are not to be confused with weakness, but rather can be used to create community, empathy, and kindness.

If you’ve been feeling crushed under life lately, the pressure, the expectations, the nonstop noise, yeah, same. But every once in a while, an artist drops a song that doesn’t just sound good, it feels like someone reached into your chest and hit the reset switch you’ve been begging for. That’s exactly what Icyy Bleu does with her new single “ Break Away, ” a soulful, spiritual exhale wrapped in warm R&B. Icyy Bleu has always lived in that sweet spot where emotional honesty meets spiritual clarity. Her voice is silky smooth but firm in all the right places, the kind of tone that comes from someone who’s walked through chaos and somehow stayed soft anyway. Her production has that cinematic, atmospheric glow that feels like a deep breath after a long week. She isn’t just making songs, she’s building little sanctuaries for people who need them. “Break Away” came out of one of those seasons where everything hits at once. Too many responsibilities. Too many people are pulling at your energy. Too little room to just exist without feeling like you’re drowning in expectations. Instead of letting the weight swallow her, Icyy Bleu pulled herself inward and upward, straight to God, straight to stillness. The song plays like a midnight prayer from someone trying their best not to break, leaning on Galatians 6:9 and holding onto the reminder that even when you’re tired, you don’t give up. You realign. Sonically, it’s a float. Smooth melodies, warm harmonies, and a calming bass line that feels like sitting in soft sunlight with your eyes closed. It’s spiritual without being heavy, soothing without being sleepy. You can meditate to it. Cry to it. Lay on the floor to it. Journal to it. Play it while you wash your face at 2 a.m., trying to pull yourself back together. It’s comfort disguised as a vibe. At its core, “Break Away” is about surrender, not the weak kind, but the kind that frees you. The kind where you stop trying to carry everything alone and remember that you were never meant to in the first place. It’s a moment of recalibration for anyone overwhelmed, anxious, or just feeling spiritually stretched thin. Icyy Bleu wrote it to make space for herself, and in doing that, she made space for everyone else, too. In her own words: “I hope ‘Break Away’ reminds people that God never leaves them, even in their lowest or most chaotic moments. Sometimes all we need is a pause — a moment to breathe, reset, and reconnect with the Creator. If this song gives someone clarity, comfort, or the strength to keep going, then it’s done exactly what it was meant to do.” If your spirit’s been running on fumes, let this song refill the tank. “Break Away” isn’t just something to listen to, it’s something to feel, something to lean on. Turn the lights low, press play, and let Icyy Bleu give you the quiet you’ve been searching for. “Break Away” feels like a spiritual exhale. What was the exact moment you realized you needed to step back and reconnect with God before you could even think about creating again?   As a creative, great plans and creative ideas would remain at the forefront of my mind. Being spiritually sensitive, I would notice distraction creeping into my life, situations making me feel like I “HAVE” to put this first because of whatever reason, then not being able to find that personal time would lead me to start feeling frustrated, anxious, or depressed. Those moments are the moments where I accept the feeling of having been strong for too long, pushing through obstacles, distractions, and the “unfulfilled” hope of having time for my own goals with no more strength, and my only comfort is to break down in tears to the lord in sorrow, letting everything out. In all moments, I’m asking God and patiently waiting for that moment of peace and quiet. Those are also where the moments of great creativity, unplanned and led by the holy spiri,t can happen. You mentioned this song came from a heavy season. What part of that experience was the hardest to put into words, and how did you finally break through creatively? The hardest part was when I was in an active practice of faith through the storm. Battling the temptation to give in to the demonic spirits of depression and anxiety after being delivered from them, while having to be content in unsettling conditions. Knowing how powerful my words were, at this point, being given more responsibility as my faith-in-action climbed, I had to really watch my words and thoughts. With that intent and the lord's help, I was led to study diligently the whole book of Ecclesiastes, and that’s where I learned to be content. I learned a new strength the lord allowed me the moments to receive within. Being still in the storm, that’s where songs like “Need You” and “Break Away” came from. Y our music has this calming, cinematic feel. When you’re building a song like “Break Away,” what does your emotional or spiritual process look like in the studio? I love this question. Before I get to the studio, I’m intentionally spiritually, therefore, mentally and physically prepared to engage with God in the studio and not get distracted, just as I practice in every moment, and to deliver this song the way he wants it, with his guidance, for the best impact, as his ways are always the best. Once I’m in the studio, I’m allowing the lord’s light to shine through me, enjoying the moments in gratitude and precision in the person the lord created me to be. Now that I’m in the booth, I take deep breaths and focus my presence on the father, then, and this is the key, I serenade directly to God. I sing and perform to him as if he were a person in front of me with no one else around. Not being distracted by the spiritual attempts of the enemy, however they may come. Knowing that I’m doing this with him, I keep my focus on him while being open to learning from him at every moment, and he allows me to deliver. I continue to go with his flow for the remainder of the session. Magic has been made by his grace The message in Galatians 6:9 plays a big role in this record. How has your faith shaped the way you navigate burnout, pressure, and the expectations that come with being an artist? I’m giving praise right now because I see the lord’s fruit in this moment that is happening, and this beautiful question was embedded with his glorious presence and confirmation! The faith the lord has blessed me with has molded me into a person with more strength, if I were to sum it up into a word. I’m always becoming stronger. It looks like a hulk that keeps evolving, and as he evolves, his whole muscular figure is oversized, constantly oversizing, if I could describe a visual of the spiritual strength increase. So I’m more still through storms, simple and easy storms a lot of times, which are the small daily attacks, building my practice, leading me through those bigger storms to victories and glories with Christ. All the while, I’m cognizant of his words, which are the truth, like Galatians 6:9, to help push me through in encouragement. As I use his methods, I kick back more in faith; his burden is light, enjoy his fruits, and almost like an addiction to him, I begin to seek him more. It’s great to experience the growth inside, and I can’t go back further we go. He will give me the strength and wisdom to endure, navigating burnout, pressure, and surpassing expectations as I continue resorting to asking him and no one else for it. If someone hears “Break Away” during their lowest moment, what’s the one thing you hope stays with them long after the song ends? “No matter where I've been, I have my patna, ain’t leaving me out names on all rosters…” He’s never left you, he'll never leave you. Move that way, come to him, he's got big plans for you.

Moises “MO” Santizo is building something intentionally different at the intersection of spoken word, storytelling, and physical media. Best known as the creator and host of the UNSHUT Podcast , MO is now introducing a format that blends long-form interviews with collectible vinyl releases, a concept that has not previously existed in the podcast or spoken-word space. Born in Guatemala and raised in Los Angeles after immigrating to the U.S. as a child, MO’s journey has been shaped by resilience and adaptability. From selling food on the streets of LA at a young age to navigating language barriers, family challenges, and immigration limitations, his early experiences laid the foundation for a career built through persistence rather than access. After graduating from high school, MO faced a major setback when his college applications were denied due to immigration requirements, despite holding legal work authorization. Instead of pausing his ambitions, he pursued opportunities in coaching and choreography, quickly establishing himself as an award-winning choreographer. Over the next nine years, he built a career that took him across the U.S., Mexico, and Canada, eventually leading him to Las Vegas, where he founded a performing arts company and partnered with the City of Las Vegas on recreational and consulting programs. His company was also one of the first to implement virtual choreography feedback through a digital platform. During the pandemic, MO temporarily stepped away from the performing arts industry, using the time to explore other business ventures. In 2022, he officially retired from that chapter of his career and revisited a long-standing goal: hosting and on-camera storytelling. In October 2023, he launched UNSHUT, a podcast focused on in-depth conversations with artists, creatives, and public figures. Since its launch, UNSHUT has reached listeners in 44 countries on Spotify and featured a wide range of guests, from Grammy-winning and multi-platinum artists to independent creatives and comedians. MO’s latest project expands the podcast into physical form with a vinyl-exclusive spoken-word interview featuring former Disney child actor Chez Starbuck. Hosted by MO and Starbuck, the interview reflects on Starbuck’s breakout role as Disney’s first live-action merman, his experiences working with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen and Christy Carlson Romano, and the personal challenges that followed early fame, including substance abuse, family dynamics, and parenthood. The vinyl release is designed as a limited collector’s item and includes: A limited-edition double-sided vinyl An alternate ending exclusive to the record A QR code granting access to an extended video version of the interview Access to original photos from the project The project was recorded in MO’s home in Austin, Texas, and pressed locally by Gold Rush Vinyl. Credits include production by Dan Smith, artwork by Matthew Marniella, camera and audio by Angel Santizo, and additional camera and behind-the-scenes work by Vincent Carino, all collaborators connected through previous UNSHUT episodes. MO describes his approach as focused on long-term impact rather than scale, emphasizing that innovation does not require celebrity or virality. His goal is to demonstrate how creative formats can evolve when artists and hosts think beyond traditional distribution models.

Prin$e William raps like someone who’s lived enough life to tell you the truth and enough ambition to rewrite where that life is headed. The rising hip-hop artist has been crafting a lane built on duality: the hunger for elevation and the honesty of where he came from, the wins and the wounds, the dreams and the reality checks. His voice sits right in that middle space, sharp enough to cut through the noise, reflective enough to stay rooted in something real. Known for his signature pocket, his introspective punchlines, and the way he turns life lessons into hooks, Prin$e William brings a storyteller’s mind to a genre that rewards authenticity. His influences are clear: the perspective-driven approach of J. Cole, the versatility of Drake, but the lane he’s carving is entirely his own. He blends melodic confidence with grounded vulnerability, stitching together chapters of loyalty, betrayal, success, family, money, and the thin line between who you were and who you’re becoming. In 2025, he delivered What’s Life? the release chosen for BUZZMUSIC’s Best Independent Releases of the Year. More than a title, the project is a question he turns over from multiple angles. To Prin$e William, life is influence. Progression. Success. Love. Family. Money. But it’s also identity, the different versions of himself he reveals track by track. The album plays like a mirror, reflecting someone who’s growing, evolving, and learning to embrace all the sides of who he is, not just the one that looks good on paper. What makes Prin$e William compelling isn’t just the bars, it’s the emotional honesty behind them. His music hits because it feels lived-in. Earned. He writes from the middle of the climb, not after the victory lap, capturing the real-time process of becoming better than yesterday. And that mindset carried into his personal life this year, too. 2025 marked a major shift in self-improvement, increased self-awareness, and a new chapter symbolized by moving into a high-rise condo, a physical representation of leveling up and a reminder of how far he’s come. Heading into 2026, Prin$e William is focused on expansion: more music, more storytelling, and deeper visual worlds that bring fans directly into the narrative. He’s building something bigger than a catalog; he’s building a movement rooted in elevation, self-belief, and authenticity. This spotlight dives into the mind behind What’s Life? an artist on the rise, sharpening his craft, telling his truth, and showing every side of who he really is. What’s Life? is the release you chose for BUZZMUSIC’s Best of 2025. When you sat down to build this project, what were you trying to understand, or answer, about your own life in real time? Just trying to figure out what was important to me at that moment in time. Digging deep and getting to know myself, not just as an artist but as a person. You talk about the album showcasing different sides of who you are as both an artist and a man. Which version of yourself were you most afraid, or most excited, to reveal on this project? On this album, the version of me I was most excited to reveal was the man behind the monarchy. The one who still questions himself, still fights through doubt, still earns the throne every morning. I wasn’t scared to show the lavish side—that’s easy, that’s natural. But showing the vulnerable side? The version of me that’s carrying a dynasty on his back? That’s the part that took courage Your music blends luxury ambition with gritty honesty. How do you balance the confidence hip-hop is built on with the vulnerability that makes people feel connected to your story? I’ve always hung onto being myself and letting everything else fall in place. Even if my story is too unique to be relatable, it will be something no one has ever heard before. Hip-hop, from my perspective, is about presenting something fresh, new, and raw authenticity. Influenced by J. Cole, Drake, and your own lived experience, you’ve carved your own lane with introspective bars and melodic pockets. When did you realize you had your own sound, not a reflection of anyone else’s? Building and making mistakes, but life taught me everything in between. I didn’t wake up one day and say, ‘Yeah, this is my sound.’ It was more like… the world finally started echoing back what I’d been feeling for years. I knew I had my own lane the moment my pain started sounding expensive. When the struggle and the royalty met in the middle, it didn’t feel forced. That balance, introspective but still lavish, vulnerable but still victorious, that’s Prin$e William 2025 was a year of self-improvement and increasing self-awareness for you. How did your personal upgrades, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, shape the lyricism on What’s Life?? Just living life, how it worked for me. As I answered the question about what life means to me, I started living it and naturally doing the things I always wanted to do. You can only rap about a space you’re actually in. Moving into a high-rise condo was a milestone for you. In what ways did leveling up your environment change the way you think about success, discipline, and the lifestyle you’re building? Moving into that high-rise was bigger than a new address. It was the first time my environment finally matched the vision I’d been carrying in my head. When you wake up above the skyline, it reminds you what you climbed out of, and what you still gotta climb toward. Success feels different when you can literally look down and see spaces you used to dream of. It pushes your discipline. ’Cause now I’m not grinding just to escape something… I’m grinding to maintain and elevate something. A lifestyle. A legacy. A standard. Looking ahead to 2026, you want to get your audience more involved in your visual. What style, themes, or concepts do you want to explore on camera that you haven’t shown the world yet? I want to show the contrast between marble floors and concrete roots, how both shaped me. I also want to experiment more with storytelling—short-film vibes, symbolism, imagery that says just as much as the lyrics. Think mirrors, crowns, empty rooms, pressure, patience… the kind of visuals that make you think about the cost of building a life like this. And I want the audience involved, fan-submitted ideas, cameos, and band behind-the-scenes looks at how we make the vision happen. I want people to feel like they’re part of the throne being built, not just watching it from a distance.

Ambient music is often misunderstood as background noise, soft, drifting, and passive. But for artists like Derrick Stembridge, it’s the complete opposite: a form of emotional excavation. For over twenty years, Stembridge has shaped a body of work that feels like slow-motion memory, each composition peeling back layers of experience until only the essential truth remains. Under his long-running project Drifting In Silence , he developed a sonic language defined by atmosphere, restraint, and a quiet intentionality that sits somewhere between presence and disappearance. His 2025 releases marked one of the most prolific and creatively expansive years of his career. From Fading Into What Remains at the start of the year to Pathways II, Beautiful Chaos of Truth, and his collaborations under Ukniwndivide, every project deepened his exploration of emotional space and sonic architecture. But it was Home , the final full-length of the year, that crystallized everything he’s been reaching toward. Home isn’t nostalgic. It doesn’t try to recreate a childhood room or mourn a place long gone. Instead, it moves quietly into the question: What remains when we stop trying to return to the past? Each track feels like an intimate interior walk, a memory not as a story, but as a sensation. There’s a soft ache in the resonance, a clarity in the stillness, and a sense of grounding that comes from letting the present moment speak without interference. Together, they form a meditation on belonging, not as a place, but as an internal truth. Stembridge describes the album as a reckoning with what stays with us long after life moves forward, a realization that home is carried within, not behind. Beyond the music, 2025 was a year of expansion and refinement for him. He completed the full conceptual development of his upcoming book, The Sounds That Shape Us, a deep dive into how sound and memory intertwine. He restructured Labile Records for a more intentional future, strengthened his visual and philosophical identity across all creative mediums, and laid foundations for immersive listening experiences designed to make ambient music physically felt, not just heard. Looking toward 2026, Stembridge is entering a new era of artistic clarity, preparing two full-length albums, curated label releases, sound installations, intimate listening-room performances, and greater transparency with listeners through long-form writing. His advice for artists reflects the ethos of his work: guard your quiet, protect the space where ideas grow, and allow your art the stillness it needs to reveal itself. This spotlight explores the world of Home, the culmination of a year defined by depth, discipline, and the relentless pursuit of emotional truth. Home is the album you chose to represent your 2025, a record rooted in memory, internal landscapes, and emotional quiet. What moment made you realize you were ready to make a project this introspective and unguarded? It didn’t arrive as a dramatic breakthrough. It came slowly, almost gently, like a shift in the air you don’t notice until everything feels different. For more than twenty years, I’ve lived inside electronic palettes, long-form textures, and the quiet architecture of ambient sound. I’ve explored vast digital landscapes, sculpted dense atmospheres, and experimented with every tool that intrigued me. But near the end of last year, I found myself reaching for the most familiar instrument I’ve ever owned: the acoustic guitar. It was the first instrument I learned, the one that taught me how to listen. Before I knew anything about drones or signal chains or reverb tails, I knew what it felt like to sit alone with a guitar and let the room carry the sound. Coming back to it wasn’t nostalgic; it was grounding. It reminded me of the version of myself that existed long before careers, deadlines, or expectations. The realization that I was ready for this album came from a sense of balance I’d never fully felt before the understanding that where I started and where I’ve landed had finally met in the same place. I didn’t feel any need to reinvent, or prove, or chase anything. I just felt ready to make something honest. Something simple. Something true. Home isn’t a reinvention. It’s a reconnection, a moment where clarity, maturity, and gratitude finally aligned. Your work has always explored resonance, decay, and silence. When creating Home, how did you approach building textures that feel like emotional environments rather than compositions? I approached Home with the mindset of a listener rather than a composer. I wanted the album to feel like a place you enter, not a sequence of tracks you play. And to achieve that, I had to let the guitar behave like an environment rather than an instrument. Instead of building layers on top of it, I listened to how the guitar interacted with the room. I paid attention to the air around the notes, the way the body resonated, the imperfections that revealed themselves when I played softly. I recorded the sound of the room as much as the sound of the instrument. Those details became the emotional landscape. A finger scrape could carry more feeling than a chord. A slow bloom of resonance felt like a memory returning. A moment of silence felt like a path opening up. When you’ve been creating ambient music for as long as I have, you learn that restraint becomes its own form of expression. The most important thing you can do is leave space for breath, for emotion, for the listener to arrive inside the work. Home became an environment because I stepped back and trusted the sound to reveal itself. It taught me, once again, that the room is just as important as the instrument. Maybe even more. The album avoids nostalgia and instead explores what remains after we stop clinging to the past. What did you personally have to confront or release while making this record? The biggest release wasn’t emotional; it was artistic discipline. I had to let go of the belief that depth comes from density. After decades of layering, sculpting, and building immersive electronic spaces, it felt almost counterintuitive to create a record with so much openness. But simplicity isn’t emptiness. It’s clear. And clarity is its own kind of courage. I confronted my own instincts to keep adding more texture, more movement, more sound. And instead, I chose to subtract. I chose to trust the single voice of the guitar, the quiet resonance of the room, the subtle emotional shifts that happen when you let a note decay fully before moving on. The truth is, everything I’ve learned across my entire career prepared me for this kind of restraint. The record isn’t about looking backward. It’s about acknowledging the past without being held by it. It’s what remains when you’ve lived enough life to understand that the simplest moments often hold the most weight. I’m grateful I reached a point in my journey where I could finally make something this honest. In 2025, you expanded Labile Records and built a unified creative identity. How has this intentional direction reshaped the way you think about your role as an ambient composer? For many years, my work lived across different projects, sounds, collaborations, and phases. Each release had its own identity, and each chapter felt separate from the others. Expanding Labile Records in 2025 finally gave me perspective. It let me zoom out and see the arc of my creative life as a single, evolving ecosystem. This shift showed me something important: ambient music isn’t just a genre I work in. It’s a practice. A way of listening, of connecting, of offering space. Unifying everything under one creative identity allowed me to see how all the pieces fit: the music, the visuals, the long-form writing, the immersive spaces, even the personal philosophies behind the work. It gave my career cohesion, not because I forced it, but because I finally had the maturity to see what had been forming all along. My role now feels less about releasing albums and more about creating emotional, sonic, and conceptual environments that people can enter and feel supported by. It’s humbling to realize you’re still discovering new layers of your craft after twenty years. Your upcoming book, The Sounds That Shape Us, explores how music anchors memory and evolution. How did writing prose influence the way you approached sound design this year? Writing the book was transformative because it required me to describe, in actual language, things I’ve only ever expressed through sound. The book explores the emotional physics behind music, how tone becomes memory, how rhythm shapes the body, and how sound carries our experiences long after the moment has passed. Putting these ideas into prose forced me to slow down and articulate the why behind the work. And when I returned to the studio, that awareness completely changed my approach. I listened differently. More openly. More carefully. The acoustic guitar became a character in the larger story I was writing, not an instrument, but a narrator. Every detail mattered: the air, the resonance, the decay, the breath between notes. The book taught me that sound design isn’t technical, it's emotional architecture. And bringing that insight into Home created a connection between the two projects that feels intentional and natural. Even after two decades in ambient and electronic music, this process made me feel like a student again, curious, attentive, grateful. And that’s one of the best gifts the book has given me. You've mentioned exploring immersive listening experiences and spatial environments. What does presenting your work in physical space unlock for you as an artist? Spatial environments unlock the physical dimension of sound, the bodily, sensory, immersive dimension. And for ambient music, that’s everything. When music fills a room, it becomes a presence. It interacts with walls, air, movement, and distance. It becomes a space you inhabit, not a song you listen to. For an album like  Home , where so much of the emotion lives in nuance, the warmth of the guitar, the resonance of the wood, and the subtle imperfections present it in physical space elevate the entire experience. You feel the vibrations. You sense the air shifting. You notice details that headphones would never reveal. After years of working primarily in digital environments, reconnecting sound with physical space feels like coming full circle. It brings me back to the original spirit of ambient music: creating environments that give people a sense of grounding, calm, and connection. Presenting the work this way isn’t just an artistic choice; it's a continuation of everything I’ve learned about listening. After more than two decades of atmospheric music, how do you protect your creative stillness and stay grounded enough for this kind of clarity? Stillness is something I treat with intention, care, and respect. You don’t create atmospheric music for twenty years without learning the value of quiet, both externally and internally. I protect my creative stillness by giving myself permission to slow down. I walk without headphones. I play the guitar without recording. I listen to the world as it is, without trying to manipulate it. These practices keep me grounded and remind me why I make music in the first place. Over the years, I’ve learned that creativity isn’t sustained by pressure, it's sustained by presence. It’s nurtured through patience, listening, curiosity, and gratitude. I’m thankful for the long journey that taught me this. It took many years of experimenting, refining, stumbling, and evolving to understand that silence isn’t the absence of sound  it’s the foundation of all sound. That understanding is what keeps my work honest.It ’s what keeps me grounded.And it’s why I still feel inspired after all these years.

“Left Hand Lane” works because Steve Mac McCullough knows exactly what lane he is in creatively, and he stays there. This is not a song pretending to be deep or cinematic. It is observational country done right. Sharp, funny, and grounded in real-life annoyance that everyone understands but rarely admits out loud. From the first verse, McCullough leans into humor without turning the song into a novelty track. That balance is harder than it sounds. His vocal delivery is relaxed and conversational, like he is venting to you from the driver’s seat rather than performing for a stage. The tone feels natural, not forced. He sounds like a guy who has actually lived this moment one too many times. Production-wise, the track keeps things clean and classic. Mid-tempo country instrumentation, steady rhythm, nothing flashy. That restraint is intentional. The story is the hook. The groove supports the punchlines instead of fighting them. It makes the song insanely replayable because it never overstays its welcome. Lyrically, “Left Hand Lane” succeeds because it respects the listener’s intelligence. McCullough does not overexplain the joke. He lets the scenario speak for itself. Anyone who drives highways regularly already knows the frustration. The song becomes a shared inside joke between strangers stuck in traffic together. The music video pushes the concept even further. Directed by Mitch Wallis, it feels self-aware without becoming corny. The visual storytelling mirrors the song’s tone perfectly. Lighthearted. Observational. Just exaggerated enough to make the point without turning into slapstick. It feels like a public service announcement disguised as entertainment. Culturally, this track matters because country music thrives when it draws on everyday life rather than chasing trends. In an era when many countries lean hyper-polished or overly dramatic, “Left Hand Lane” brings things back to simple relatability. It is for commuters, road trippers, delivery drivers, and anyone who has muttered under their breath while watching someone cruise at fifty-five in a passing lane. Steve Mac McCullough proves here that not every song needs to change your life to earn a spot on your playlist. Sometimes a song just needs to make you laugh, nod your head, and feel seen. “Left Hand Lane” does exactly that, and honestly, that might be its biggest win.

“God’s Up To Something” lands like a deep breath in a genre that often mistakes volume for conviction. Carson Beyer is not yelling his beliefs at you. He is standing in them. That difference matters.' The track opens with restraint. Clean production, warm instrumentation, nothing flashy. It sets the tone immediately. This song is about steadiness, not spectacle. Beyer’s vocal sits front and center, smooth without being glossy, confident without overselling the emotion. He sings like someone who has learned patience the hard way. Lyrically, the song leans into uncertainty instead of pretending it does not exist. Beyer does not claim to have answers. He trusts the process. That subtle shift makes the message hit harder. In a cultural moment where everyone is either spiraling publicly or pretending everything is perfect, “God’s Up To Something” offers a third option. Keep going. Stay open. Let faith be quiet but firm.' The production supports that message perfectly. There is space in this track. Space between lines. Space for reflection. Acoustic elements blend with modern country polish without turning into radio fluff. It feels intentional, not algorithmic. You can hear the Muscle Shoals influence creeping in, not as nostalgia bait, but as discipline. Less noise. More feeling. Beyer’s strength has always been his ability to bridge worlds. Traditional country roots, modern R&B smoothness, and a grounded spiritual core all show up here without fighting for dominance. His vocal phrasing carries soul, but his storytelling stays grounded in country realism. That balance gives the song replay value beyond one emotional hit. Culturally, this track arrives at the right time. Faith based music often gets boxed into either worship lanes or performative positivity. “God’s Up To Something” refuses both. It is for people navigating layoffs, loss, identity shifts, or burnout. For listeners who still believe in something bigger but are tired of being told to smile through the chaos. This song does not chase virality. It builds trust. And that is why it is sticking. Carson Beyer sounds like an artist who knows who he is, knows what he believes, and is comfortable letting the song do the talking. In a noisy landscape, that quiet confidence feels radical.